Rise With The Moon
by NessaRoseFangirl
Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow (Slow Updates)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'd been playing around with the idea of Natasha and Bucky knowing each other for awhile now and here we are. This will be a short series, no more than fifteen parts. Hope you enjoy it! **

**Also, s****orry if the timeline is off, I'm not exactly sure how much time passes between Winter Soldier and Civil War or exactly what else was going on with Steve and google really wasn't helping me. **

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part One: It's Been Awhile**

The former Winter Soldier, James Barnes, was silent as Steve and the other guy, Sam, spoke in hushed tones. Not soft enough that he couldn't hear them, but not loud enough for him to catch every word they said to each other.

The conversation wasn't directly about him, but he knew that it did or would involve him at some point. Ever since he had been 'freed' from Hydra's control, had gone off on his own, his life had turned into something short of a nightmare. Before there was nothing, a lot of emptiness in his mind with a flash of something every other decade.

When he saw Steve, Captain America really, fall into the water from the giant ship, Helicarrier, his mind became scattered and restless. Flashes of a person he didn't know, from a time he couldn't recall, with faces that were both familiar and foreign to him has filled his mind.

For weeks, months maybe he had been hiding and avoiding capture of any kind. It wasn't safe, he wasn't safe. Steve, he was someone he knew from the life he couldn't remember. A sense of trust, loyalty, was there. How deeply it ran was beyond the Soldier, but he knew it must have been a bond unlike any other.

"Bucky," Steve said sharply, but he wasn't talking to the soldier with the metal arm under a clamp, "Is harmless. Hydra did this to him."

"Yeah and how many other people will see a difference," questioned Sam with a sorrowful look.

Steve sighed, "We just need some help. I think the team would help."

"With what's been going on, I doubt it," Sam replied dejectedly.

Steve replied, "Stark might. Clint would find a way, Thor and Banner are still gone. Wanda and Vision are still new to all this. However Wanda was experimented on with the mind stone, perhaps there's something she could do. Natasha would help I think, but I can't be certain how much."

"Natasha," whispered the former soldier, why did that sound familiar, "Natalia, Natalia. I think I know her."

Steve paused then, picking up the barely audible sound of his friend's voice. He turned his head to the side so his blue eyes fell on his best friend, the infamous Winter Soldier. Since he had brought Bucky here, he had said hardly more than a couple of sentences. It was difficult for him to find the words, though his mind was recovering, there was still a lot of work to be done.

Steve was certain that Wanda would have been able to help him, but he couldn't risk bringing her here yet or bringing Bucky out of this basement. He had only been in here for a few days, Steve and Sam barely captured him a week or two ago. Not to mention Bucky had been out of it for most his stay, unless he was trying to escape then we was completely aware.

"What did you say," Steve asked, his brow furrowed.

The winter soldier, Bucky, looked past his sweaty dark hair that hung over his face. His breathing was a bit ragged, his shoulders trembled ever so slightly as images flashed across his eyes. Eyes greener than the Amazon forest. A crooked smile that screamed mischief. Russian curse words ringing in his ears.

"Natalia," he said again breathily, he visibly swallowed, "Natalia… I re-remember her."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Steve, but made no verbal comment. He had no idea who Natalia was, the way the assassin said with an accent wasn't helping him either.

Steve frowned, "Natalia? Who is she?"

A faint, ghost smile, grew on the fallen soldiers face. His once dim eyes held a new light to them, "Natalia… Alianovna Romanova. Yeah. That was her name…"

Steve recognized the name, but didn't say so. Once a little less than two years ago he heard the name, he had been in a old bunker with technology that was cutting edge for him, but ancient to this world. The person beside him then had been the owner of such a name. What were the odds that they were thinking of different people instead of the same one?

"How do you know this person," Sam asked curiously.

Bucky thought for a long moment. How did he know this person? He wasn't sure, only that he knew her. Somehow he knew her face, though it was blurred in his memory, and her name, but the story was taking longer to return to him. It came slowly, but surely.

He struggled to speak, "She, she helped me… I shot her and, and I brought her to, to a cabin…. I don't know why, but I, I did…."

Bucky was quiet for a long moment.

Steve and Sam glanced at each other, wondering whether or not they should push him to speak more about it. He hardly spoken more than a few words at time, to hear him talk this much was a surprise. When they found him in Romania, he hadn't been willing to talk and mostly fought hard.

When they finally got the upper hand, they brought him here unconscious and once he woke up, he hardly spoke. His memory was returning, a lot of it was actually there, but he still had a long way to go. Keeping him trapped bothered Steve to no end, but he couldn't risk losing track of Bucky again or letting the Winter Soldier loose.

"She, she had red hair and, and these haunted green eyes…. skin that glow, glowed in the moonlight," Bucky looked up at Steve with a hint of a sly smile, "She was the, the most beautiful and deadly dame from Russia. An, an angel of death. She had a code name, it was widow. It was widow, widow something."

_Black Widow_, Steve supplied in his mind.

Sam spoke up then, putting the pieces together, "Our Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff."

Bucky's eyes flashed with recognition, but he was still so unsure, "That was her, her. With you, when we, we fought?"

The woman on the bridge, the woman fighting with Steve. Could that have been her? He could barely make out her face, he remembered seeing her there. Steve he recognized, he didn't recognize her at the time. Was it her or someone who looked similar? Based on Steve's Thoughtful look, he was even more uncertain and confused than before.

Steve couldn't be more sure that Natasha was the one Bucky was talking about. When word of the Winter Soldier first came up, she was the one to tell him about the legend. She knew information about the assassin, she told him that she had searched only to come up empty handed. How much she knew though was yet to be determined.

Steve remembered Natasha told him during the fall of SHIELD, that she had a run in with the winter soldier before. That he shot her on a bridge, left a nasty scar above her left hip that she joked about when she showed him.

_No more bikinis_, she had said with a thinly veiled sad smile.

The reaction was a strange one since he knew there was more to it than a simple outfit that he was certain she would still wear. It wasn't for the bikinis, Steve realized, it was because of Bucky.

"It could have been," Steve said, the wheels turning in his mind, "I'll be back soon."

Sam opened his mouth to question the super soldier, but Steve was already out of the room on his way to find the Bucky's angel of death.

* * *

Steve found Natasha at NAF, New Avengers Facility, that operated as a Headquarters, training center and home to the avengers. Half of the base operated just like an HQ while the other half looked more like a home, which was courtesy of Tony.

When he designed this base, he wanted it to not only be a base of operations, but to also be a place for all the avengers to rest and feel comfortable in. Each suite was meant to fit the avenger's personality and have their own touch added to it.

Natasha's room was the most far out than the others considering it looked like it belonged to a college student rather than a killer assassin. There were posters all over her walls, more poster than wall really with dvd and VHS cases everywhere.

Natasha was used to having few possessions in her life and knew how to keep spaces clean, but here in this room was the only place she let herself let go of the habits. Except for the cuffs she refused to get rid of.

Steve walked into her room to see her lying on her bed on the left hand side by the windows. She dressed in black leggings and a plain white t-shirt, her red hair lighter than the last time he saw it. The assassin was currently watching something on her television, she didn't pay attention to Steve despite knowing he was there. It wasn't until Steve cleared his throat that she gave him some attention.

The former assassin remarked dryly, her eyes never leaving the tv, "I would have guessed that a guy from the forties would know a thing about knocking."

"We need to talk, now," Steve said standing over her.

Natasha sighed exasperated, "Is it an emergency?"

"To some extent," Steve said taking a seat in her desk chair.

Natasha knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon based on that tone. So she sat up from her lying position to look at him and evaluate him. Body language showed he was agitated and nervous about something, but she had no idea what the cause could have been. His face showed, despite the stoic look, hurt, some anger and…uncertainty? Natasha wasn't entirely sure, but she figured something must have happened.

"What is it," she asked, concern leaking into her words.

Steve narrowed his eyes catching her off guard, "You knew him."

Natasha felt her heart jump at that which it didn't do often. She had an idea who he was talking about, but she wasn't prepared to deal with this now. Hell she would rather avoid this conversation altogether, however she had no escape from him now.

Natasha replied with a scrunched brow, "You're going to have to be more specific on who _him _is."

"Bucky," was Steve's answer, "You knew Bucky and didn't say anything, for two years you never said anything."

"I told you I had a run in with the Winter Soldier," Natasha said, she shifted on her bed to sit with her legs crossed.

"Not the Winter Soldier," Steve said, his tone clipped, "_Bucky_. James Barnes, you knew him."

Natasha shook her head, her expression confused, "I don't and didn't know him-"

"Don't lie to me," Steve interrupted, his eyes alight with anger.

Natasha thought over her options. Lying would get her nowhere, even with the most elaborate and convincing tale she could tell. Telling the truth was not something she wanted to do. That would require she revisit that stint, those few days trapped in a freezing cabin with a wound that almost took her life and a man who she let inside her walls. Her scar ached just at the thought of that time years ago.

Thinking about her stint with the Winter Soldier wasn't something she did often, especially when she learned that the Winter Soldier she knew, had been the same one Steve had known. It made her uncomfortable, so she just never mentioned it. Besides, it wasn't like the information would help with his search. It was better to stay quiet.

"Fine," Natasha said with glossy eyes, "We spent all of a week together locked in a cabin. They took him away after and I could never find him, end of story."

"There's more to it that you aren't telling," Steve argued.

Natasha didn't deny it, "There's a lot of things I don't tell you."

"Why not say anything," Steve asked her, "Why not say you knew him, or a remnant of him? Why didn't you help out more with the search if you knew him?"

"I helped out enough and it was irrelevant," was Natasha curt answer, "Why are you asking now?"

"Because Bucky remembers you," Steve answered.

The surprise was clear on Natasha's face, her eyes widened and her mouth parted slightly at that new information. The fact that Steve had spoken to him was not surprising, she figured Steve had found him weeks ago. And the only reasons others didn't suspect Steve was up to something was because of her helping in the background.

No, her surprise came from Bucky remembering her. Wondering if he could remember her was not something she considered to be real, especially with all the stuff Hydra did to his mind. Though if he could recall Steve from decades ago, she supposed it wasn't that far out.

"He remembers me," Natasha said still shocked by the idea.

Steve nodded seriously, "Yeah. He talked about you, said more about you than he had in days."

Natasha glanced away for a moment as memories of that week came to the forefront of her mind. The pain, the cold, the healing and the warmth all flooded her veins. How this brainwashed and dark killer turned out to be one of the gentlest people she had ever encountered.

Truth be told, Natasha didn't really believe she had any form of impact on the Winter Soldier. Even if the one in question could say otherwise, Natasha couldn't believe that. Not to mention, it was only a few days and meant nothing. Their moments weren't special, just two people trapped together. Nothing more and nothing less.

She knew it was a lie.

"Come with me back to him," Steve said, bringing her attention back to the present.

Natasha looked up at Steve, "What?"

"He remembered you," Steve said, "He needs to see you."

Natasha blinked at least five times before she could answer, "No, I don't think that would be a good idea. Besides how do you know that I won't just come back and blab? I'm assuming you want this to be secret."

"I trust you," said Steve leaning back in the chair, "And I think you want to see him to, but are afraid to."

"I'm not scared of anything," Natasha stated, her eyes never leaving his.

Steve offered a small smile, "Sure you aren't. I'm leaving in ten."

Without another word, Steve got up and left the room allowing Natasha to process what she had just heard. It had been so long since she last heard of him specifically. Any report that had anything to do with the Winter Soldier, she had been all over it.

_I won't stop searching, I promise. _

Searching for a clue, a sign, or something of any kind that would lead her to him. And each new lead was just another disappointment. She could remember the hopeless feelings, she could remember the frustrations.

Natasha fell back on the bed, the mattress bouncing her slightly.

_Don't tell me you've never jumped on the bed? _

There were so many things she could recall, some happy times and bitter moments occurred in that freezing cabin. Moments she looked back on with a smile, some moments she looked back on and sighed.

_I didn't ask to be made into this monster! _

There were laughs and there had been tears. Absently, Natasha pressed her fingers onto the scar he had left on her before they met. Most injuries she had wouldn't leave a mark on her due to the serum in her blood and dna. However because this wound didn't receive any real medical attention until a week after it had happened, the near constant reopening of the wound had done it's damage.

_Who cares about my wounds? So long as I can fight, I'm valuable._

She figured a mark would have been left behind because of what he hit her with was a powerful weapon. The scar however she was somewhat grateful for. It reminded her that he had tried to help her and that she was not invincible.

_You're so ready to take on the world alone, why not do it with others? _

Natasha released an uneven breath as the echoes of the past rang in her ears. How his voice filled her mind, the stinging of a faded injury causing her to hiss quietly. She glanced at the crack in the doorway where Steve had been minutes ago. Soon he would leave to see him.

Natasha had to wonder if she should remain here. After all, she spent years searching for a clue of any kind and found nothing. Here he was, or he was really just closer than he had ever been before in the years of her search. Could she really ignore him now when he was so close?

No, no she couldn't.

* * *

The former Winter Soldier had no idea how much time had passed since Sam and Steve left him. Not that he really cared when they were here or not. However he had to admit, having one of them a round for part of the time eased his worries about him breaking loose and hurting someone.

The one called Sam was right to be wary. Steve's view was clouded, that much he could tell. A released a sigh as he leaned awkwardly against the giant clamp holding his arm in place. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but it would have to do until he could be trusted to be without a restraint.

Footsteps echoed in his ears causing him to be alert. If he really needed to get away from the clamp, he could by hitting it at a certain point. He hadn't done so this whole time because he wanted to stay. Though in case of an attack, he would be able to defend himself.

He relaxed when he realized he first pair of footsteps belonged to Steve. Always in rhythm and heavier than most, a soldier's stride. The second pair was incredibly light, like a ballerina's. Bucky looked through the strands of his hair to see Steve had entered the room, but it was the flash of red that caused Bucky to jerk his head up.

A woman stood beside Steve, curly red hair hung loosely over her shoulders. Despite the distance, he knew she was looking at him with those haunted green eyes. A smile spread along her face, recognition.

"Natalia," he said as his eyes shimmered at the sight before.

The woman who always appeared when he closed his eyes. The woman he could never find. Natasha dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement of his calling her name. The sound of her coming from his lips tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Her birth name was not something she heard often, and even when she did hear it, it always sounded like it belonged to someone else. Yet when he said it, it made her want to smile. She let the smile come despite herself.

Steve saw it as the most genuine and real smile he had ever seen on her face. Natasha wasn't one for the soft moments, it made him wonder what exactly happened between his best friend and partner that would cause this response.

"It's a been awhile James," Natasha said with the same smile on her face.

She closed the space between them, her steps as light and graceful as ever. Bucky could only stare at her with slight awe and wonder. It had been so long since he had last seen her, part of him had feared maybe she wasn't real and that he had made her up due to the craziness in his mind. It would not have surprised him to discover that she were nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

The idea was enough to break what remained of his heart. He was forever glad and grateful to know she was real, that she had been there. Natasha kneeled in front of him, her smile had faded, but it was still fairly visible. Her features had matured since their encounter, but he could tell she was the same dame.

"I shot you," he whispered, "I attacked you."

Natasha smirked, "A few times actually. Like I said, you could have at least recognized me."

"I'm sorry," he replied softly, even though he knew it wouldn't make up for what he's done.

"It's okay," she said in a quieter tone, "I know mind control, it really sucks."

Bucky could only nod and responded with, "I forgot… but I, I still saw your face. Your big eyes, fiery hair. It was there."

"Glad I left an impression," said Natasha with a cheeky grin.

Bucky smiled at her as he said, "Me too."

There was a moment of silence where neither of them moved or made a sound. All they can do is look at the other, taking in their appearance and comparing it to the image in their minds.

"You're as beautiful now as you were the day I lost you," Bucky said to her, his voice hoarse and filled with sorrow.

Natasha had no words to say to that, her only response was to look at his eyes. They had captivated her attention enough that she didn't notice his real hand moving. It was only when the tips of his fingers touched her cheek that she realized he had moved at all.

"Is this, is this okay," he asked uncertainty.

Natasha replied, "It's okay."

His hand slid to cup her cheek, she didn't pull away and actually leaned into he warmth of his palm. It was barely noticeable, but Bucky could see it and feel it against his hand.

_No one's ever looked at me this way. _

_And what way am I looking at you? _

_Like I'm the only person you see. _

"I would very much like to kiss you," Bucky admitted with a weak smile, "But you're too far away and I fear you would kill me if I tried."

Natasha released a quick chuckle, "I can fix that."

Without waiting any longer, she leaned forward until their faces were mere centimeters apart. Close enough to feel each other's breath, but not close enough to touch. Natasha tilted her slightly before leaning closer and pressing her lips to his cheek. The stubble he had grown tickled her slightly as she pulled away to look at him. The smile on his face was enough to make her heart stop, not that she showed such a reaction on her face.

"Sneaky as always," he whispered gently.

She leaned in closer again, but instead of kissing his cheek, her lips brushed his. They were touching, but neither of them could move and start the kiss just yet. Her hand was on back of neck, bringing him forward so their lips would collide. Natasha had kissed many guys and girls over the course of her life, but kissing his was by far the best.

"I have missed you, even when I didn't know what it meant to miss someone," Bucky whispered to her when they broke apart.

Natasha wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck, taking in his scent. He pressed his face into her hair, soft as ever though he noticed the color was a bit lighter than he remembered. Not that he was complaining, it was beautiful regardless.

The two paused in their reunion. While the world had disappeared for a moment, Natasha recalled that they were not alone. Another pair of eyes was watching, waiting for an explanation of all this. Who was she to deny such a story?

Natasha looked at Steve, "I guess you want to know the story."

Steve nodded, "Yeah, yeah I would."

Bucky grinned at Steve, the smile that Steve hadn't seen in decades. It was a smile he never thought he would see on his best friends face again.

"I'd like to hear to, my memories still, still not altogether," said Bucky as he glanced at Natasha, "But it's coming back to me."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Glad folks seem to be enjoying this and thanks to reviews, I appreciate the help cause that part in the timeline has me lost. **

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part Two: Rescuing A Dame**

Natasha cursed, hissing every foul word she knew in her Native tongue as she stared at the red liquid soaking her navy blue shirt above her left hip. This was not how this mission was supposed to go, but of course it went to shit. All she had to do was protect an engineer, keep him safe and alive until he reached his destination. There were more dangerous missions she had been on in the past and escaping without a single scratch on her, yet this is what got her down.

The thought of the engineer distracted her from the pain she felt for a moment. Now he wasn't going to arrive to any destination except maybe an afterlife if there was one. She had managed to get herself and the engineer back up on the road, out of the cliff they had fallen over. The slight ache in her shoulders was an echo to the memory of holding him over the she and forcing him, along with herself back up.

Of course once they made it back up, she knew they were not safe and needed to move, but she was not quick enough. She could sense that the attacker was near, she tried to protect the engineer when she spotted him in the distance. Dark clothing, a shimmering arm. By maybe a hair she avoided the bullets from the assassin for moments until one bullet went through her and into her target. Killing the engineer quickly, but leaving her alive with a dangerous wound.

Natasha was forced back to the present as she stumbled through the snowy forest. In the northern range of Iran had been hit with a snow storm that was only going to get worse, she had to get out of the cold and contact SHIELD, to contact Clint. The agent glanced over her shoulder, she couldn't hear much over her pulsing heartbeat and ragged breath, but she knew that the assassin was chasing her. The dark shadow in the night, the myth they called the Winter Soldier.

* * *

Natasha paused her retelling as she glanced at Steve, "It was the first time I ever saw him, since the Red Room."

Steve raised an eyebrow at this, "You met at the Red Room?"

"Not him exactly. The Red Room had a connection with these assassins," Natasha explained with a distasteful expression, "Every organization had heard of a Winter Soldier, but no one had ever been able to see what he looked like. Well no one living."

Bucky winced at the words, but he said nothing in turn. It was true, anyone who had ever seen was killed. Like all the other Winter Soldiers, no witnesses were left behind. Natasha had been one of maybe three survivors. Though he wished there were more survivors, if there were only going to be a few survivors he was happy that she was one of them.

"So the KGB was partners with the Winter Soldier, but you didn't know that," Steve asked, directing the question to Natasha.

The red head tilted her head to the side, but said nothing.

Bucky answered him hesitantly, "The Red Room worked with us. There were, were other soldiers… more like me."

"They taught us little girls to fight," Natasha finished with a sly look on her face, "Only at the time, we didn't call them Winter Soldiers. Anyway, that was more of a tangent. My wound slowed me down and he caught up to me relatively fast."

* * *

Natasha looked up at the winter soldier, his clear eyes surrounded by dark shadows stared down at her. There was nothing in those eyes, it was as if he wasn't really looking at her. Like he was lost in a haze. Natasha didn't think much of it. Every option she could come up would end up with him shooting her, even if she did manage to get him distracted for a second, his reflexes would kick in to attack her before she made it off the ground.

If she was going to get out of here, she needed five seconds. Just five seconds to keep him distracted so she could get to her feet and away. The wound in her lower left side hindered her, it wouldn't let her use all her assets. Especially when she would only need half a second to catch him off guard. She wished she still had some widow bites, that would stun him long enough for her to disappear.

The Russian spy collapsed in the snow, her energy slowing draining as her body heat faded away. Though she was no stranger to the cold and often enjoyed it due to her time in Russia, this wasn't the same. It was like her life was leaving her. How was she supposed to get away when she could hardly breathe? If this was how she was going to go, she would welcome it. Her Ledger may not be perfect, but a lot of red had been cleaned.

This was pathetic. She was the Red Room's top graduate and well on her way to being SHIELD's top agent, she was a survivor. There were so many worse situations she had been in and came back out on top, but one single shot is what took her down? How could this be, it just couldn't be how she went out. Yet as she stared up at him, she really felt that dread come in.

"Just," she forced out, her eyes locked with his, "Just make it quick."

The Winter Soldier didn't move. He hesitated at her words, why she had no idea, but she didn't care. The saying always went, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. This might be her only chance. Using the last bit of strength she had, she threw snow at his face and swiped his legs causing him to fall on his back into the snow.

Natasha ran away, each step sending throbbing pain through her side. It didn't look that bad to her, but she guessed it must have hit something important. She knew her right side held a lot of important organs kind of clumped together, but her left side and the lower part shouldn't have had anything too serious. She supposed that it was more aggravating since the bullet was much larger than any other busker she'd taken and this would probably leave a scar unlike the other ones. Which was just great.

Her breathing grew labored as she weaved through the trees, unsure of her direction due to the thick snowfall and clouds overhead. She had no way to tell which way she was headed, for all she knew she was getting further away from her get away ride and rendezvous point to meet Hawkeye. That sent a pang to her chest. What would he think when she doesn't show up? Would be think she took off? Would he regret giving her that chance those few years ago? Would he come looking for her?

Natasha tripped over a large root that stuck out above the snow, she fell face first onto the thick snow. Her side screamed in agony, a cry of pain escaped her lips with the air that had been in her lungs now gone. Her hand went down to her side, she recoiled at the feeling of her soaked shirt and gasped at the added pressure her hand provided. This can't be it. Or maybe it was and she just had to accept that.

The final burst of strength she had faded away, slipping through her fingers like sand. She coughed and turned on her back as the taste of metal filled her mouth. This bullet wound would be the death of her and she couldn't stop the twinge of fear that death was coming for her. Heavy, fast footsteps filled her ears as black spots filled her vision.

At least she would be unconscious when she went. At least the last image she sees would be dark trees, a white sky and snow falling on her, a peaceful look. She counted to five when her eyes closed and she had no power to open them again, her consciousness fading out. The last thing she felt before slipping completely away as leather against her neck.

* * *

"She fell unconscious from the wound I gave her," Bucky said, his tone filled with so much regret.

Natasha added, "I'm still not sure why it affected me so harshly, but whatever weapon he had was designed to hinder and kill someone like me."

It was true that he had specific weapons designed to harm people like the Black Widows as they had weapons which could harm someone like him. Natasha was strong, but even she couldn't fight the weapons that targeted her very core. Bucky stared at Natasha for a few moments, taking in her features. Since the last time he saw her in that snow forest, she had grown up a bit, matured was the word. Her features didn't sharpen like he thought they would, they softened.

"I just brought her back with me, took care of her wounds while she slept," Bucky said softly, he looked to Steve, "I-I heard your voice Steve. Calling her a dame, that I should save her. So that's what I did."

* * *

It took the Winter Soldier a moment to regain his center before taking off after the infamous Black Widow. It was not hard to find her, the wound he caused with his bullet cannon had done it's damage. She would not be able to out run him with the wound nor would she be able to hide since there was a trail of crimson blood against the pure white snow. Soon he would have to return to mission control, there they would freeze him or give him a new assignment.

Since he had just had session where they messed with his mind, he knew that would not await him. However he was concerned that he would be punished for not returning as soon as the mission was completed. He figured he would explain the fight and ensuring that no one knew of him or had seen him, like his controllers always seemed to stress.

_No one is to know about you. _

He was pulled from his musings when he spotted a dark figure lying in the snow. Lying there, motionless, was the Black Widow. Her red hair stood out against the snow, just like the drops of blood.

_Just make it quick_.

That must have been her final request. She didn't want to have a long death. The Winter Soldier readied his gun to finish the job, but paused when he heard something. That voice, the echo from what he assumed was another life spoke to him. A man, a young man's voice that he could never place.

_You'll be out there rescuing dame's._

It wasn't his voice, but he _felt_ like it was one he should know like his own. The Winter Soldier lowered his gun as he kept his eyes on the woman. He knelt besides her and pressed two gloved fingers to her neck. She still had a pulse, it was faint, but it was there. The Black Widow was alive, clinging to life. Could he- could he return with her? No, that would be foolish. Though he recalled mission control mentioning something about having a Black Widow would be a valuable asset.

He thought back to his assignment, wondering if he could return with her when it hit him. He had another eleven days to be here. Though he had killed his first target, there was still another aspect he needed to continue. How could he have forgotten? He looked down at the Black Widow, leaving here to die seemed… wrong. It would be best to bring her back to mission control, but she wouldn't survive long enough without medical attention.

He decided he would have to take her back to his hideout, a cabin a few miles away that housed him while he was gathering information. A handler wouldn't be there, not for a check up or visit of any kind. He would be alone for the next few days, especially with the weather taking turn for the worst. Ripping the bottom of her shirt, he used it to bind her wound. She gasped, but her eyes never opened and her breathing remained unchanged. He supposed she would be like this for the next few hours, he would most likely need to get her more medicine. And clothes and food.

Once the Winter Soldier was satisfied with the makeshift bandage, he brought one arm under her back and the other under her knees, he stood with her securely in his arms. Running would get him there faster, but he was concerned about irritating the wound. However, if he didn't get to the cabin as soon as possible, she may not survive the journey. Nodding to himself, he took off running through the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you all for the follows, favorites and reviews!**

_**Nightmare is in Italics**_

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part Three: No Name**

_Natasha knew exactly where she was, the dancing studio at the Red Room. There were two dark grey walls, one wall on the right was a mirror for the girls to see themselves and then behind her was a window to the 'outside' world. Outside world really just meant the outside of this compound, specifically the obstacle course outside. Though when she looked through the window, she could barely make out the training course, the light was too bright and her eyes burned. _

_She could hear her native tongue, the voices of her instructors, the crying of the other girls, the scientists rigid words. Natasha felt her chest tighten as she looked around the room, to see the girls dancing and the instructors barking at them, scowling and attacking the girls. Hitting them if they messed up the dance. The bright light of the room tinted red, Natasha spun around to see red liquid fall down the window. The blood every life she took, the blood taken by her own hands, the blood of every girl who didn't survive here. Her chest tightened more, oxygen refused to make it into her lungs-_

Natasha awoke with a start, she sat upright and instantly regretted that decision when her wound flared. Searing hot pain swirled around her abdomen and she forced herself to breathe normal, or as normal as she could manage. Her eyes darted around the room, she didn't recognize this place and didn't see anything that could be shield. If the agency had picked her up, she would have been brought to a hospital center and if it was a safehouse, there would have been a small eagle located around the room.

In every shield house, there was an eagle figurine or the actual shield logo hidden in every room. Not hard to find, but not easy either. When she couldn't spot it, she knew wherever she was must not have been a shield safe house. She pushed the blanket off of her. For starters she was annoyed that she was only in her bloody sports bra, but would focus on that later. Her focus went to her mid section that was covered by gauze, no blood seemed to be seeping through and she couldn't feel any blood coming out.

She shifted, no stitches or staples and there was definitely blood coming out. Whoever patched her up didn't do a horrible job, but she knew she could have done better. Supplies must be short here, that was the only reason she could think of that whoever bandaged her didn't use staples or stitches. She turned to the window beside her, it was dark out and she guessed late in the evening or early morning.

"It's uh, 2 in the morning," said a hoarse and deep voice she didn't know, "You've been unconscious for some hours."

Natasha turned to look at the owner of the voice and was surprised, a bit horrified, to find the Winter Soldier standing in the doorway. His mask was gone so she could see his nose and jaw, his entire face really. He still wore his armor and the metal arm threw her off. She jumped to her feet, ignoring the protest of her side and readied herself for a fight. No time to waste, she had to go. She saw that he carried no visible weapons, that was something. Unfortunately she had no weapons of her own, at least she was more of a weapon than any of the ones she had.

"No, no," he said, he lifted his hands in a sign of surrender, "No fighting. You're hurt."

"You bandaged me, why," Natasha hissed out, taking a step forward.

The Winter Soldier blinked at least ten times before he answered her, "I… I don't know… I should have, I should have left you out there."

Natasha glared at him ignoring the dark spots in her visions, "So why didn't you leave me there? Why bring me here?"

"So you'd, you'd live," said the Winter Soldier.

He wasn't' sure if that were true, the echoing voice in his head that wasn't his or his handlers was responsible for this. In all his years of service he never mentioned it to the handlers because he wanted to keep the voice and feared they would take it away. This voice was the only thing he had that wasn't from them and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could.

When it had said he would be rescuing dame's, which was an older term for women, he had to follow it. It would lead him to something, he was certain it would lead him to something more so he rescued her from the snow and wound. Besides if it didn't lead to anything, he would hand her over to his handlers. Healing her just enough so she could function, but not enough so that she could fight him off.

Natasha knew something was off about his answer, she couldn't tell whether he was lying or if he honestly was confused by his actions. As far as she knew the Winter Soldier was an incredible assassin and efficient killer. He usually didn't leave any survivors and those who did survive were those who may have been nearby, but never saw him.

"Why do you care if I live or die," questioned Natasha, her tone softer due to the unease in her stomach.

The Winter Soldier replied, "I don't care."

"Bringing me suggests otherwise," said Natasha, her breathing shallow, "I'm leaving, now."

He shook his head, "You won't, you won't make it. And you standing there has caused it to open further and, and that's why blood is now soaking through your gauze."

Natasha wanted to believe that was a trick just so she would look away, but she could feel her wound and the blood and the pain. Despite her pain tolerance rising due to the serum in her veins, this injury was inflamed due to her sharp movements and the bandaging not being the best. One hand went to her side, the added pressure was slightly reassuring, but otherwise it wasn't helping.

"Let's, let's… help? Yes, help each other," said the Winter Soldier.

Natasha couldn't stand anymore, she caught herself on the wall. The Winter Soldier jerked forward, but stopped himself when he realized she had caught herself. There wasn't any panic in his eyes or anything, but Natasha could barely make out the concern there. Why it was there was beyond her. "How could we help each other," Natasha asked, bitter and breathless.

"In, in exchange for this," he gestured to the cabin, "When I let you go, you say you never saw me."

Natasha knew part of that was a lie, she could feel it. There was no way he was planning on simply just letting her go, there had to be more to it than that. The problem was she couldn't fight him like this and she wouldn't be able to find her way through the storm without warmer clothes and any form of communication. Part of her really hoped that tracker behind her ear was still operational, though the slight sting there and extra weight told her that may not be the case. He probably took it out or disconnected it which sent a pulse of annoyance through her. A wave of nausea washed over her for a moment, it was gone as quickly as it came.

"You don't," she started panting, "You don't plan on letting me go. My being silent isn't, enough. Either you want more or, you plan to take me, to your boss."

The Winter Soldier stared at her for a moment, "It's possible. Once, once you're better then, then you can just fight me, me off."

Natasha forced herself to stand up straight, ignoring the black spots in her periphery she said, "I can fight you now."

"That's un-unnecessary," said the Winter Soldier, "Please, I wish to help."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, "This has to be some kind of trick or sick joke. Which is it?"

"Neither, please sit, you can fight me when you heal," the Winter Soldier said, his voice a cross between monotone and pleading.

It was the strangest tone Natasha had ever heard in her life and she didn't know what to make of it. However she couldn't focus on it as another wave of nausea hit her, what the hell was wrong with her? She'd survived worse than this. Her expression hardened as she studied the Winter Soldier, she would have to play by his game for now, but one way or another, she would get out of here.

Natasha grinned darkly, "I look forward to that fight."

Her strength failed her and she barely caught herself as her knees gave out. Why was this wound so difficult? Cold fury pulsed through her veins like the icy water outside. She was Black Widow, she had survived and fought with worse wounds, so why was this one draining her more than any of the other ones?

"Your shot has quite the punch," Natasha gritted out as she tried to push herself upright.

The only reason she was able to sit up was because the Winter Soldier had pulled her up quickly, but not forcibly or harshly which surprised her. He was too close, he could easily kill her, but she could kill him to in this range. As long as she watched his movements closer, as long as she remained vigilant, he would not get the upper hand and would not end her life.

"Get away from me, before I make you," Natasha said to him sharply, sweat sliding down her face.

The Winter Soldier tilted his head at her, he did move slightly away, "I mean no pain."

"You shot me, of course you mean pain," Natasha said sharply.

The winter soldier didn't say anything for a short while, his head tilted to the side and a blank look on his face. "I have, have medicine and more gauze," he told her as he stood up.

"You don't have thread or a stapler," asked Natasha as she leaned back against the wooden wall.

Her head tilted down and her left temple pressed against the cold window and she welcomed the feeling. It felt nice. Natasha knew she was out of her mind. Her she was, injured and with the infamous Winter Soldier who was responsible for a number of assassinations. However as she studied him for a moment, she wondered if he was one of the soldiers who helped train her and the other Widows as a child. Wherever the Winter Soldier or Soldiers came from wasn't part of Russia, but Natasha vaguely remembered seeing someone like him and fighting him off.

He shook his head, "I have neither. My armor prevents, prevents me from getting seriously injured. So having, having those items was not necessary."

"Why the gauze and medicine then," Natasha questioned with a raised brow.

"It was here when, when I arrived," answered the Winter Soldier.

Natasha sighed, she shut her eyes as she pressed down on the wound. The front was more bothersome than the back was, entrance wound versus exit wound. She was certain she wasn't internally bleeding, and if she was well that was unlucky. The red room serum in her would take care of that though, so she wasn't that worried per se, but the twinge of panic was there.

She had fought with worse injuries, she could fight her way out of this. Yet as she sat there, judging the pain and area, she was concerned that her chances were much slimmer than she originally would have guessed. The Winter Soldier returned, a thick roll of gauze in one hand and two bottle of pills in the other, along with some fabric on his metal arm.

"Since you were, were technically shot in the abdomen it's, it's suggested you don't eat or drink anything for a bit," said the Winter Soldier as he set down the items.

Natasha remarked, "Only suggested."

"There didn't appear, appear to be any internal bleeding when, when I checked," he went on as he unrolled the gauze, "Will keep an eye on that. And uh, I have a shirt for, for you. I do apologize for taking, taking it off."

Natasha said nothing as the Winter Soldier faced her. Looking up at him, she could tell he was being genuine about that which she found strange. This guy was playing some kind of game and she was struggling to figure out what plays he was running. It didn't make any sense to her, but she was too exhausted to fight it and that alone made her sick. How could she not fight it?

"Once you're better you'll, you'll be able to do it on your own," he continued kneeling before her, "But for now I'll do it. Here's the antibiotics and, and pain killers."

He handed her the pills. Of course it was very possible the pills were just meant to sedate her or weaken her senses, but as she held them, she could tell two of them were actually antibiotics. That was a relief, she'd deal with the pain, for now she just needed to make sure the wound didn't get infected. Natasha dry swallowed them with relative ease while the man beside her laid out the gauze. Lying on the cot she saw another bottle she hadn't noticed before.

"It's just water," he said noticing her gaze, "To, to clean it. Rubbing alcohol would, would sting too much and is not recommended."

Natasha only nodded, she understood that. There was nothing for her to say, but as she sat there and the earlier adrenaline began to fade away, she thought a little more on this situation. She supposed she should be grateful she was still breathing, but she was out of her mind to still be here and not gone. The coldness of his metal fingers shouldn't have surprised her, but it made her jolt slightly. At her reaction, he did look apologetic, though just barely. As the bandage came undone, she couldn't help, but to look down and assess the damage herself.

Blood had surrounded the wound, but that was neither here nor there. The wound itself didn't look as horrible as she expecting considering the effect it had on her already. A part of Natasha would have preferred to start doing it herself, but she felt off. If he did try anything, she would need to be focused on getting him off and not so much about delicately taking care of the wound. Besides, she could stomach him placing a bandage on. She knew the cards she had been dealt and she would play them to her advantage. It wasn't until the Winter Soldier started to wipe the blood away did Natasha look at him.

"You have a name," Natasha asked when the silence became more annoying than comforting.

This stunned the man, he tilted his head to look up at her with a confused look on his face, "The Winter Soldier."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "You're not funny. What's your actual name?"

"The Winter Soldier," was his reply, he went back to work as he said, "I've never had another name."

Natasha wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to that, but she guessed that she was just going to have to refer to him as Winter Soldier in her mind during her stay. That wasn't my the worst thing in the world, yet as she studied the man she wondered if he was telling the truth. Had he truly never had another name? No, that wasn't how the winter soldiers worked. At least from what Natasha could remember about them.

She searched her earlier memories, trying to find where she had encountered the soldiers like him, but no relevant information came up for what she wanted to know. There was a chance that perhaps he had been raised from an incredibly young age to be the Winter Soldier. Natasha doubted this, though she wasn't sure why she doubted the idea of it. Perhaps it was because the man seemed to visibly uncomfortable and strained in his movements, yet still determined to get the job done no matter what. The Black Widows were in their element when they went into battle, this soldier wasn't in his element per se, but he was in his arena.

"Do you have a name," the soldier asked when the bandage had been taped.

"I'm sure you already know it since you were following me and my target," Natasha remarked dryly.

The soldier appeared thoughtful, "Agent N. Romanoff, though I do not know what the 'N' stands for."

Natasha shrugged her shoulders, "Guess you'll have to live with the mystery."

The Winter Soldier looked as if he wanted to say something to that, but instead kept his mouth closed. After a moment he stepped away from her to go retrieve a black cloth on the table near by. Though when he lifted it up, she realized it was a black t-shirt at least sizes too big for her, not that she would complain. It would be better than wearing her bloodied shirt and jacket, which she noticed were hanging on a chair in the other room. For now she would take what she could get.

Silently, the Winter Soldier held the black shirt in front of her. Natasha just studied him for a moment, watching and waiting to see what would he do if she decided not to take the shirt. While Natasha was many things, stupid wasn't one. Slowly, she took the shirt from him and he stepped away. Actually he turned around and walked out of the room leaving her the chance to get the shirt on, albeit slower than she would have liked, but she had to be careful not to aggravate the new wound.

When the shirt was on, she turned her attention back out the window. She could barely make out the terrain, but she was able to see the snow on the ground and the snow falling from the sky. It was almost a peaceful sight if not for the fact that she couldn't contact Clint or Coulson or Fury to let them know she was one, alive and two, captured. Deep down a part of her feared they would think she abandoned them after the deal she made, but she forced herself not to think like that. They trusted her and she trusted them. She just would have to find a way back to them or them find her.

In the meantime, Natasha laid herself down on the bed doing her best not to hurt her side. It would likely be a long night and truth be told, she wasn't looking forward to being stuck in this cabin in the middle of nowhere with the Winter Soldier who had for whatever reason spared her life. Natasha released her a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, hopefully she'd still be alive and be able to get back SHIELD.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Pretty short chapter, but it ends at a good place instead of a weird one, so smaller word count. Stay safe out wherever you are reading this as the world is pretty chaotic right now! Thank you for all the support!**

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part Four: It's Morning**

The winter soldier felt sick, which was not a feeling he was unaccustomed fo per se, but it was a foreign feeling. Due to his enhancement, getting sick the way a normal person would with things such as the flu or cold were not something he needed to worry about. Being unsettled by blood or other bodily fluids was also not something he had to be bothered with. No, the sickness he was 'used' to involved the voices in his head that seemed to haunt him, the faces of those he killed on all his missions.

For a few moments as he sat alone in the dark, he could feel the demons overwhelming his senses and dread would fill his stomach, maybe a bit of nausea to accompany the feeling. Yet as he thought of the woman sleeping just next door, the voices became quiet and the faces faded away from him quicker than they typically would. This caused him to feel the sickness more though, that dread and this new foreign feeling of stress that he hadn't need to feel. Though he feared not fulfilling his master's wishes, he was never stressed about it, but this new uneasy feeling had him feeling stressed and unstable.

A few minutes ago he had radioed in to report his mission had been a success, that his target was acquired and there were no witnesses to report him. It wasn't technically a lie, he had succeeded in his mission and there were no witnesses to say anything. The SHIELD agent couldn't go anywhere nor could she tell anyone about him now. For the time being at least, he had nothing to worry about in that regard. Of course there would be the matter for when his handlers cane to collect him and she was here.

With any luck he would either tell them she was here by then or she would be gone. Time blurred on for him, at some point he must have fallen asleep because when his eyes opened pale white light was streaming through the window followed by the smell of something…. tea? The winter soldier jumped to his feet, he moved to the kitchen behind him to see the woman, Romanoff, standing there with a mug in hand. Dressed in black pants and the top larger t shirt that hung over her shoulders, she tilted her head to study him. There was almost something teasing in her green eyes, well he couldn't be sure teasing was the right word. It was the first time he had ever thought of the word teasing to describe the way someone was looking at him.

"What, what are you doing," asked the winter soldier with a raised brow.

Romanoff answered plainly, "Wondering how to best knock you out without spilling my coffee." She took a long sip holding his gaze. There was something odd in her jade eyes.

He blinked, "That would be unwise."

"Would it be," she asked lowering her mug, "I don't like being a prisoner. I'm not one to remain in captivity long."

"You are no prisoner here," he told her.

Romanoff scoffed, but said nothing.

The winter soldier wondered if he should say something else to her, but found he didn't know what to say. For so long he never needed to use voice, only if he needed to get questions answered before killing a target which wasn't often. He supposed he could ask her questions, but there was little chance she would tell him anything. Besides, she wasn't his mission so he didn't think it was necessary to try to get any information out of her. Even if he could use her injury against her, it likely wouldn't do any good. There was no purpose. Instead of staying there, he turned around and returned to his room where he would stay until he needed food. Hopefully she wouldn't take it all.

"Where are you going," she called after him.

He didn't turn to face her as he answered, "To my room."

"Going to make some secret call," she asked next, he heard her come up behind him.

"Not until two am," was his reply.

Romanoff leaned forward, "Who exactly do you work for?"

"Not something I can tell you."

"I'm a prisoner remember and won't make it out in this weather with this injury, so you can tell me."

"And when you leave, allow you to give off the intel? I'm afraid not."

"You'll talk eventually."

"Unlikely."

Romanoff said nothing more to him, though her gaze still made him squirm slightly, but he didn't understand why. He was used to be people looking at him with fear, anger or as though he were beneath them, yet the way she was looking at him was none of the above. There was an almost softness to her gaze, a thoughtful expression that told him she was trying to figure him out and he was sure she would find nothing. Not a great deal was known about him and he intended to keep it that way.

_But you don't have to Buck._

The Winter Soldier stiffened at the voice in his mind, the one that sounded different from his handlers and one he felt he should know, but never did. It irritated him that he knew nothing of this voice, however he could not deny that this voice felt safe and unlike the other ones he heard in the best way. While it was possible this voice was dangerous, he was okay with that. For now, it was a benefit and a comfort that he wanted to keep and when they day came when he didn't want it, he would tell his handlers and they would remove it.

Without saying anything, the Winter Soldier disappeared into his room leaving Natasha alone in the kitchen. When she had woken up, she had spotted the soldier sitting down with his eyes closed, as if he had fallen asleep being on guard duty which supposed wasn't that far off from what he was likely doing. She was an assassin, similar to him which meant that he needed to keep his eyes on her as much as he could. Killing had come to mind, truly it had.

She had managed to stand from her bed, walk over with little pain and could have used anything in this place to end his life while he slept. It would have been merciful really, he wouldn't feel any of it and could go peacefully which was something he didn't offer to others, but something stopped her. There had been a number of times that Clint could have ended her life while she slept, their journey back to SHIELD that first time she had been sedated for all of it. He could have ended her there, but he didn't.

Perhaps it was because she was worried about Clint that she was taking a page out of his book, perhaps she was tired of adding any blood to her ledge that she didn't kill the soldier. Whatever it was, she had simply walked past him and into the kitchen. While he slept it gave her the perfect opportunity to get a feel for the place, she learned there were hidden cameras, but they had all been disabled. It was either to keep his cover of never being seen or so that whoever was meant to watch him, didn't know about her.

Natasha was unsure of what to make with the Winter Soldier and she was running out of time here. She needed to get out of here, part of her considered taking off with the medical supplies he had and just getting to somewhere with a phone, but she stopped herself. On the hand she had no idea where this cabin was and without a clear sky to help her, she was out of luck on using nature to guide her. And she would need to assess where to go quickly if she intended to survive the weather and her injury.

Taking another sip of her coffee, she started drumming up some more plans.

* * *

An hour passed when his door opened, something he hadn't expected. It should have sent him on his guard, he should have jumped up and ready to fight her off, but for some odd reason he was content to just sit on the bed and look at her. There was no true reason for him to be worried. While the infamous Black Widow was an incredible fighter, in her weakened state he would not have a difficult time stopping her. It was likely she needed something.

"What do you want," the soldier asked as he looked away from her.

"I'm bored," said Romanoff as she walked in. "I've drummed up a handful of plans on how to escape if I so choose, run through them enough times and likely will continue to fine tune them, but it's turned into a drag. So, shall we play a game?"

The soldier frowned at her, "A game? I have no interest for such things."

Romanoff shook her head, "You might be interested in this one. Besides, it's not like you're doing anything else. Is this what you do when you don't have a mission? Stare at the walls?"

"Yes," he answered truthfully, "There is nothing outside of missions."

The soldier studied her reaction and was surprised to see that she looked taken aback by his words, though he couldn't imagine why. However he recalled the knowledge he knew about the Red Room, where she came from along with all the other Black Widows. Their lives were tied to missions, their lives were focused on missions just as his own life was. He wondered if his words bothered her because it had been so long since she heard them. From the reports he found, he knew that she had defected not that long ago, but long enough.

A part of him wanted to ask her about that, but he would not dare allow such a thing to leave his tongue. Ask her why she left the Red Room, a horrible idea that would lead to unwell thoughts for him. He was meant to focus only the mission and now that there was no mission, he would simply sit and wait until she was gone. However as he thought about not having a mission, he wondered if he could entertain the ideas starting to appear in his head. Maybe this could be a mission of his own, gathering intel.

"Are there a lot of you," Romanoff asked after the moments of silence.

He shook his head, "No, there is only me."

Romanoff's brow quirked, "Interesting. The first reports of a Winter Soldier are from a little after World War two. You been around for that long?"

Images that the soldier did not recognize entered his mind, men he had never met, snow and the feeling of falling hit him sharply, but he forced away. He forced himself not to react to whatever was happening in his mind, it was nothing and she was likely playing games with him. That is what she came in for, to play a game. He had taken her weapons and hidden them outside, he knew she hadn't found them so what had she done to make him see those things? Was she more dangerous than he believed?

"I am not playing your games," he said sharply.

Romanoff tilted her head to the side, "No. You certainly aren't."

Before he could say anything to her, she turned away and left the room, leaving him alone to his muddled mind. As he sat there, he briefly thought of the images he had seen and wondered if it was a malfunction in his programming. Perhaps in the last wipe, they had made a mistake and her words triggered that mistake? No, that couldn't be it. Whatever it was, it was something he knew his handlers would tell him to avoid, yet that only made him want to follow it more. Then he heard his own voice, but it sounded different. It was deeper, happier and more... alive.

_Let's go have some fun brother, I'm sure you're tall enough for the rides now._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Because online college is low (HIGH) key kicking my butt, I threw myself into some writing to make me feel better, so here's an update. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part Five: House of Cards Are Fragile**

The hours passed Natasha painfully slow. There had been a handful of times where Natasha had been confined in solitude without any human interaction or even anyway to tell the time, it had been unpleasant to say the least. This was by no means as bad, she could see the outside world and knew the time, not to mention there was someone nearby that she could interact with if she truly wanted to. It may have been unwise to bother him since he was an assassin and she didn't want to piss him off, but she was assassin herself and it would be a bad idea to pick her off to.

Boredom was unbecoming. She had spent most of her time sitting on this bed running through a million escape plans and worst case scenario schemes in her mind. At one point she tried to do a circuit of exercises to distract her, but the pain in her lower abdomen forced her to the ground and filled her with regret. Unable to stand hiding out in this room for much longer, she went out to see that the winter soldier was still hiding in his own room. His door was open, she supposed so that he could hear her better if she tried anything funny. He was just sitting there staring at the wall like a freak.

Rolling her eyes, she searched around for something of amusement. Anything would be better than running through the countless plans she had. There were more she could make, but she was growing tired of running t her ouch them with nothing else to occupy her mind. The cabin itself was not particularly big, but it wasn't that small. She had her little room, the winter soldiers, each with their own bathroom she learned which was cool along with a living room, sitting area and kitchen. It had everything you would need.

Natasha had already scoured the kitchen, she couldn't find a knife or scissors to use as weapon which was unfortunate. When the soldier was asleep she had only glanced over the living room area, paid little attention to the tv and went elsewhere. Now with the time she had on her hands, she made her way over there to see if she could find something, anything, of interest. If she truly was that desperate, she could turn on the tv, but she wasn't that interested in it yet. She supposed later she might be.

Silently she began to look around he couch, she found the coins which amused her and she thought there might be a chance to mess around with those later. When nothing else came from there, she looked at the tv case to see there were cards which made her green eyes shimmer. It was almost pitiful that she was so excited to see a set of old bicycle red cards. Regardless she would take it, some ideas spinning in her head of what she could with them. She didn't know many magic tricks, but she could play solitaire, make a house of cards or even just throw the cards and let them fly. If she threw them quick enough and aimed right, they could cut skin. She now had one weapon besides her bare hands, that was a positive.

"What are you doing?"

Natasha didn't glance at him as she said, "I'm bored out of my mind sitting in silence. I've gone over enough scenarios and escape routes and attack moves, I need something else."

Natasha pulled out a little less than a handful of rubber bands, target practice was the first thing to pop into her brain at the sight of them. Set up the house of cards, fire at will and she had some entertainment for at least a half hour. Probably longer if she was being honest. The former Russian spy stood from her kneeling position and turned to face the winter soldier with an expectant look on her face. It wasn't like he could ban her from doing anything, a fight would actually do her some good. Even though her wound throbbed at the idea, she decided to let the idea of winning the fight distract her.

"Why do you need playing cards and rubber bands," the winter soldier asked, he looked both intrigued and uninterested. It was weird.

"Worried I'll use them to attack you and make my escape," Natasha said with a tilt of her head and a too sweet smile.

He didn't look amused by her quips, he merely watched her waiting for her to continue.

Natasha released a sigh, "I told you, I'm bored. Since you aren't much of a conversationalist and have taken quite the interest at staring at walls as if you're watching tv, I need these."

The winter soldier looked at the cards and rubber bands in her grip, "What exactly would you use them for to entertain you?"

"Simple. I know some card games, magic tricks, I can build a house of cards, the rubber bands are my ammo to take the house down," Natasha said as she took a seat on the ground. "It should keep me mildly entertained for a while."

Her side ached slightly at the movement, but she did well to hide the wince. It was only a matter of time before she would need to change the bandages, her moving around as much as she had been certainly wasn't helping it heal, but she couldn't remain inactive. There was no telling how long she would be here and she didn't intend on letting this bullet hole get the best of her, not when she had overcome far worse injuries without fail. Wordlessly she set the items on the coffee table with care, letting the cards slide out of their holder with ease.

The soldier remained in his spot, just watching her. Natasha glanced at him as she was lining up the cards by their symbol, wondering why he was just standing there watching her. The idea to throw a card at him to see if he could catch it crossed her mind, it would be useful for her to know. However she also didn't want to give him a reason to attack her. While this soldier seemed tamed so far, she knew there was something brewing below the surface and she was not in the mood to see exactly what lived there. Maybe later she would test it out, see how quick his reflexes were as that would be good for her to be aware for later.

"You know any card games," Natasha asked a little curious,

He shook his head no in response. Natasha sat there for a moment, if she gained his trust maybe he would tell her more information about who he worked for and why. Obviously she knew one card game wouldn't be enough, but if she could show that maybe she wasn't his enemy, she could get something. In one swoop she gathered all the cards and started shuffling them.

_Don't worry so much on controlling each card, you have to let them move and you direct them._

Natasha nodded to the seat across her, "I'll teach you. Not like you're doing anything else and I have nowhere to be."

The soldier stared at her, his brow furrowed slightly, trying to decipher what game she was playing. This was not the first time the soldier had ever held someone prisoner or hostage, but typically he was meant to deliver the prisoner and be done with them. In the time between he kept them sedated or tied up, their freedom restricted and never let them out of their sight no matter harmless they might have been. The fact that he had this well known assassin roaming around free in his cabin was bizarre and extremely out of character for him. He had spent most of the time questioning his decision, wondering why he had done it, why the voice had told him to do it. He still had no answer.

"Is that a no," Natasha asked when the silence stretched on.

The soldier blinked at her, he glanced at the table, but after a few more moments of quiet deliberation, he stepped around the couch and took a seat. A triumphant grin appeared on Natasha's face. The soldier wasn't certain if the grin was because she was genuinely pleased for him to be here or if it was something else, not that he knew what that something else would. Natasha continued to shuffle the cards, her hands moving effortlessly around them, the sound of the cards was almost comforting. The word threw him off, he wasn't certain there had ever been a time he had been comfortable.

"There are plenty of card games," Natasha started when she finished shuffling, "Some of the best card games require more people, but I think we can make do. We have games like Spades, Black Jack, War, Go Fish. Since you've never played any card games, I could start with fish, unless did the others interest you."

The soldier frowned. He didn't know what any of the game entailed, he got a sick feeling in his stomach when she said war so he supposed maybe that was one he should avoid. Quick images of faces he didn't know, voices he didn't recognize, but had heard before were ringing in his ears for a moment. There was fine fire, there were cheers. Then it was gone, soon as it came to his mind, it left him. Slipping away like a dream when you first woke up. Part of him wanted to see more, to know more of what it meant, but the other part shut the idea down. It was likely a fault in his programming, he was due for another reset.

"Not war," he said in a soft tone.

Natasha narrowed her eyes slightly in curiosity, "Any reason?"

The soldier frowned at her, his face looked uncomfortable and uncertain. That was not quite the reaction Natasha was expecting, she hadn't been expecting much of a reaction for any of the card games she listed off if she was being honest. However this made her curious.

"Just not that one," he said after a moment of silence.

"Okay," she said with a slight shrug, "Spades or Go Fish?"

His frown deepened, "I don't know."

"We'll do Go Fish first, it's real easy and you should be able to keep up," Natasha remarked as she started to give him his cards.

The soldier looked into her green eyes, her eyes were alight with something he didn't recognize, but he had to admit he enjoyed the sight. There were very few sights he could say he enjoyed, they stirred up a strange feeling in him where he didn't feel as tense and uneasy that had become a constant state for him. A never ending state of displeasure, but sometimes it would be broken up and he could soak in the slice of freedom it brought. How was it possible for a pair of eyes to give him that reprieve? He turned his attention to her mixing up the rest of the cards on the table, he guessed it was meant to look like a pond.

"So, the goal of the game is to get four of each number or king or queen," Natasha explained, "If I have the five of diamonds, I would ask you for a five. If you have any, then you give it to me. If you don't have it, then you say go fish. I then pick up a card from our lovely pond. Make sense?"

"What is the purpose of the game," the soldier asked looking at his cards.

Natasha answered as though it were obvious, "To get the most books, or collection of cards. A book is four cards, one from each house."

The soldier nodded to show he understood, "Uh do you have an eight?"

Natasha looked at her cards, "Go fish." After he picked up a card, she asked him, "Any fours?"

The soldier frowned, he did have a four and passed it to her. As he held out the card to her, he watched her face light up for a flicker of a moment. Something so small had made her genuinely happy or close to it, he was certain of that. That same look in her eyes, it held something. Even though he could tell she was haunted, he could not deny that there was something else peaking through that pained and broken gaze. Whether it was something left over that want broken or something that had come from it, he had no idea.

It was intriguing, he wanted to know more. Where has she come from? What had she done to cause such a look? Of course the questions never left his tongue and likely never would. They were not friends, she was here until the storm let up and the two would part, never to meet again. The thought shouldn't have made him feeling anything, but the smallest prick of sorrow hit him that he would be alone once she was gone.

He did his best not to interact with her, but he was torn between being apprehensive about someone being so close to him and comforted by it, just knowing that someone else was around when he was so used to be alone. It was almost nice to have someone near by, even if that someone happened to be an injured black widow. Romanoff took the card from him and flashed him a sideways smile. He dared let the corners of his mouth turn up. Maybe for now he could just pretend that this was something different. Would that be so bad?

For three hours they sat at this coffee table, playing several card games. Romanoff won most of them, but the soldier felt a small bit of pride at having beaten her a few times. Though he imagined she had let him win, why she would do that he couldn't have been sure, but he couldn't deny it made him feel... nice. When they had tired of card games, Romanoff had started to make a house of cards.

At first she hadn't managed to make more than the bottom row before it fell apart, which caused a menacing look on her face. However when she did finally manage to get a second row, her smile and triumphant expression was enough to almost make him grin. Originally he planned to leave her to her devices, but for the first time in all his years, he found he would rather not stare at the walls and let his mind go blank. Too often that was the state he was left with, was it so bad that he wanted something different?

"And done," Romanoff said leaning back slightly to admire her masterpiece, "Now for the fun part."

Romanoff stood up from her spot, rubber bands in hand as she walked around the little table and behind the couch. He didn't move from his spot, just watching to see what she intended to do. For a moment he considered she would hit him with one of those rubber bands and use it as an opportunity to escape, he doubted it. The injury she sustained would slow her down, they both knew her best chance was to wait until it was better and the weather not as harsh.

Romanoff gestured to the open space beside her, "Care to join me or am I going to wreck two card houses by myself?"

The soldier looked back at her masterpiece to see that she had set up two card houses beside he each other, he originally thought they were one.

"Why did you make you two," he asked rising to his feet.

"A race, who can bring the house down first from the doorway," Romanoff answered, she tilted her head in the direction of the door frame that lead to the kitchen.

Not waiting for his reply, she turned away and walked to stand in the door frame. When she turned back to face him, the way her hair swung around made his stomach turn and brow furrow ever so slightly. He could hear laughter, strange music and the various sounds of games, their high pitched dings echoing in his ears. The smell of sugary sweets and salted snacks filled him for a second, almost as if he weren't in this cabin with only the smell of wood to occupy the sense.

_That bear would just be the cat's meow._

_Then I'll have to get it for you doll. _

The first voice wasn't as recognizable as the one he heard in the forest, but he knew that the second voice was his own. Where it had come from, when he could have possibly said it was completely beyond him. That sick feeling reached more harshly. Trying to push it aside, he joined Romanoff in the door way. She handed him the rubber hands, not reacting to the sight of his metal arm which he was surprised at.

"Ready," Romanoff asked him, a glint in her eyes.

The soldier only nodded once.

At the count of three, rubber bands flew forward towards the two card houses in quick succession. Yet even though the soldier was aware of the fast past the rubber bands were flying, in between the shots he didn't feel as if he were in this place and time. He could barely make out the vision of a blurry glowing stand with stuffed toys all around it. He was firing something, he couldn't be sure what, but he was trying to hit the target. And when he missed, he put more money down to play again until he got a bear and passed it to the blurred image of a woman with red hair.

The houses fell, his falling before Romanoff's though she didn't seem bothered by that. However she wasn't bothered, he didn't understand why her breathing was so labored unless she had managed to aggravate her wound. His eyes fell on her to see she didn't look out of breath, only mildly concerned green eyes watching him. It took him a few more moments to realize the labored breathing wasn't from her, it was from him. Not saying a word, he shoved past her and marched to his room, slamming the door behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Things will start to really happen next chapter, now that most of the set up has been put in the right place. Hope you all are doing well and staying safe!**

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part SIX**

Natasha had three emotions run through, each starting with the letter C which she found somehwat interesting. She was confused by his behavior, a little curious and only mildly concerned. From what she had seen of the soldier, he didn't really do emotions or talking or expression of anky kind besides a blank expression and the little worry he had when he helped with her bandages before. It wasn't hard for her to believe or even understand that he kept his emotions hidden considering when she had been an assassin, she only showed the emotions necessary for her job.

For a few moments she watched where he had stormed off to, wondering if she should be bothered and check on him- she stopped the thought before it could go any further. Why did she need to care what was wrong with him? She tried to justify the concern, if he had a nervous breakdown while she was essentially trapped here, then that spelled bad news for her. However she knew that she wasn't concerned about that. Even if he was a skilled fighter, she was just as strong as him and the only advantage he had over her was the fact that her bullet wound was still irritated.

Thus far it wasn't infected, which was a blessing and she knew she shouldn't risk it getting infected or tearing. It would create too many problems and delay her departure, something she couldn't do. She needed stay as healthy as possible that when the time came she could have a strong chance of getting back to where she needed to be. After all, she was still stuck here in the middle of nowhere with the assassin who was supposed to kill her and for whatever reason left her alive. He had yet to interrogate her about SHIELD, but as the silence turned to ringing in her ears, she wondered how good or bad that was.

With a soft sigh, Natasha walked back around the couch to clean up the mess of cards and would play a game or two of solitaire. Though because the silence was starting to get on her nerves she turned on the tv to see what was on. Natasha had considered she could use parts of the tv and get through to the frequency she and Clint had on standby. However she didn't need the solider to know she was trying to send a message. Besides, by the time she managed to put all the pieces in the right place, he would catch on. Maybe there was a radio hidden around here, this place had a lot of older materials and things that seemed out of this time.

The landline for one thing, though it didn't connect to the outside world, she had already tried to use it. It was a telephone with a rotary dial and the kitchen appliances here looked to be around from the same time. The TV she realized looked closer to modern day, but not by much. If she was lucky, there would be a radio here and she could tap into the frequency she had with Clint. He likely was listening into it now, or at least she hoped he was listening to it. That small pin prick of fear that refused to leave her alone had reared it's head at her, mocking her.

There was an incredibly small chance that Clint was looking for her because he was worried she had gone rogue or was now teaming up with the winter soldier. On the surface she knew he did care about her as a friend, as almost family even, but that didn't change her fear of what he thought. There was a chance he could think she was dead, a chance he thought she had gone rogue, a chance he thought she was captured and being tortured. That pin prick of fear grew, if he thought she was dead then he wouldn't come for her.

Natasha took a steadying breath, even if he thought she was dead, then she would just have to find him herself. She jumped at the sound of shattering glass in the next room, her senses hyper focusing on the noise and waiting to hear more. It was silent. Hesitantly, she rose from her seat ready to investigate when the door opened. The soldier had his mask off, he looked at her or in her direction, but said nothing. Instead he practically marched away until he was outside. That twinge of concern reached her again. Something must be wrong with him, so she stood up from her seat and followed him.

* * *

The winter soldier found himself standing outside in the frigid air, watching as the flakes of snow fell to the snow covered floor. His heart was pounding, but not from exertion or anything of the sort, no his heart was beating because he was afraid. The only fear he had known was the fear of failing his master's, disappointing them and risking their punishments. Yet the fear he felt now was from not knowing what was wrong with his mind and he was beginning to regret not telling his handlers of the voices and flashes before.

Perhaps it was a bug that they could work out and nothing to worry about. And at the same time, he still did not want to tell them of his visions because maybe they were something he could hold onto. All of his memories comprised of the kills he had made over the years and darkness that came when he was put to sleep. These visions have him more than that, they gave him something he could never have and it was life.

"Any reason you're out here freezing your ass off," the agent asked, he could here an undertone of… teasing in her voice.

He didn't look at her, "I don't see why it's any of your concern."

She spoke smoothly, "Call it curiosity. Besides, I should be aware if you have some kind of break down. Gives me time to be prepared."

"A break down," the soldier asked her, brow raised.

The agent didn't look at him, her gaze focused upward, "The haunted look in your eyes, labored quick breaths, storming off, shattering glass. You're fighting some kind of mental demons."

"I don't have those," he told her simply.

To his surprise, the agent laughed. It wasn't a full hearted laugh, in fact it sound like it had any happiness in it. A laugh that held no joy would have been the best way to describe it. He looked down at her to see she was looking at him with something akin to understanding in her green eyes that almost seemed to glow in the light.

"You're an assassin, of course you have demons," was all she said before she turned away.

However before she stepped inside, the soldier asked, "You have demons of your own?"

She froze in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame. Hesitantly, she glanced over her shoulder at him, "What do you think?"

She didn't wait for an answer and went back inside, leaving him to stand in the snow alone. Bringing here was a mistake, he knew that. He should have killed her in the forest, or at the very least just left her there to die instead of bringing her back here and helping to heal her wound. It was so very wrong. His handlers would either be furious with him for this or they would be pleased because they could get information from her. He had spoken with his handlers before, he hadn't told them that he had the Black Widow in his custody.

Though he couldn't say he felt guilty for lying about her, he didn't feel okay with it knowing that it would only bring him more trouble than she was worth. Maybe if he sent her away now, he could avoid running into those future problems, but at the same time, he didn't like the idea of sending her out on her own. Not because he was worried about her, but because soon as she was able to get in contact with her people, they would come for him and he could not be captured under any circumstances. This was all so complicated and futile, it was growing on his nerves and creating the feeling of frustration.

"Don't be stupid and stay out there all night," called Romanoff, her head poking out of the doorway.

The word stupid sent his mind into a slight frenzy. He was no longer standing in the frozen forest outside of a cabin, he was somewhere else, the same place where he had seen the previous red head. He was looking down at a young man with blond hair, fair skin and blue eyes. No name came to him, only that he was important to him. A friend, a brother. His voice filled his ears.

"_Don't do anything stupid until I get back," he said the blond._

_The blond replied, his tone and expression deadpan, "How can I when you're taking all the stupid with you?"_

_The memory of him scoffed, "You're a punk."_

"_Jerk," was the blond man's reply._

_The memory of himself and this man hugged. The feeling was bittersweet. It was bitter because it was clear this was a goodbye or farewell hug, but sweet because this was the closest the soldier had felt to anyone in his life. At least, that was how the memory felt. That he had someone to care about and who cared about him. He never thought something like that was possible._

_When he let go of the blond and started to walk away, the man spoke again, "Don't win the war til I get there."_

_He was flying through the air with the snow whirling around him, he could see a train nearby that they were trying to catch. He watched as the train became smaller and smaller as the air whooshed around him as he fell to his death. The scream of the blond barely reached his ears, "Bucky!"_

"Hey," Romanoff snapped at him, she was closer now, but not too close, "What is wrong with you? Are you having some kind of break down or malfunction?"

The soldier held her gaze, his mouth parted open as he said softly, "I think I might be."

Romanoff frowned at that, with a little surprise in her eyes at his admission, "Okay… what's going on then?"

"Why do you care," the soldier snapped, his tone a little breathy.

Romanoff raised an eyebrow, "If you have some kind of psychotic break, I need to be prepared as possible. Taking you down is already going to be harder considering my injury, but if you go off the rails it means I need to make some adjustments to my plans. So, are you having a melt down or what?"

The soldier wasn't sure how to answer that. It was possible that his mind was losing it's grip on what was real and what wasn't, but those visions, they felt like memories that didn't belong to him. There was no one who tell them if they were real or not except his handlers, but he didn't want them to know. If they knew, they would take them away from him. The thought surprised him. He should want these visions or memories gone, they were interferring with his performance and that was not good.

"Soldier," Romanoff questioned, an expectant look on her face.

The soldier blinked once before he said, "I'm seeing things."

"Okay, hallucinations," Romanoff questioned, arms crossed over her chest.

He shook his head, "No. They feel like, like memories. But not mine."

Romanoff frowned, "Memories that belong to someone else. In a past life kind of way?"

"Yes," the soldier nodded, that was a perfect way to describe it.

"Feel like telling me what you see in these past life memories," Romanoff asked.

The soldier didn't say anything for several moments, processing her question. Did he want to tell her? No, not really, but there was a small part of him that did want to tell her, to at the very least say what was going on out loud. He had never spoken to someone so much or said as many words. He was certain he had spoken more to her in one sitting than he had compared to all the years as the Winter Solider combined.

"I think so," was his whispered reply.

Romanoff's expression softened at his words, "Well then let's do it inside, out of the cold and with some tea. I think I saw some packets in there. What do you say?"

The soldier held her gaze as he replied, "It sounds… nice."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey there, sorry for the long delay, but I struggled with this chapter. Trying to put together the conversation between Natasha and Bucky was harder than I thought, to the point I re-wrote it twelve times. No joke, I counted and have all the edit history. But I was unhappy with all of them, so I decided not to include their conversation, but to hint around the first parts. Maybe later I'll bring it forward in a later chapter, (I 100% will), and use it as a separate thing.**

**Regardless, thank you all for the support and patience with me. I appreciate each and everyone of you. I hope you are all doing well and staying safe wherever you are.**

**Summary: The recently reformed Black Widow had an encounter with the Winter Soldier. He shot through her to kill his target, he should have killed her as well, but he didn't. Steve didn't know to the extent of what happened, but when Bucky says he remembers Natasha, Steve is determined to hear the full story. WinterWidow**

* * *

**Part Seven: It's A Gift**

"Did you break through the mind control?"

Natasha didn't look at Steve as she considered his question. Currently her back was pressed against the contraption that was holding Bucky's arm down so he couldn't run off or try to fight if his mind control kicked in. He was on her right, he looked more at ease than he had as far as Steve had seen since he had found the former Winter Soldier.

The story so far had ebbed away some of his curiosity, but not all of it. Sitting across from the two of them, Steve had wanted to know if the mind control had been broken then and if it could be broken now. As he watched the way Natasha wasn't look at him and Bucky could only look at her, he wasn't sure what to make of how they might respond to his question.

"No," Natasha answered after a few agonizing seconds, "I didn't break it that night or even after."

A soft, shuddering breath, left Bucky before he found the right words, "But she got through to me. Cracked the door."

Natasha turned her head to look slightly up at him, the expression on her face wasn't one Steve immediately understood, but he knew it was raw. Her mouth was parted open, her brow slightly risen. Not really a surprised reaction, though she didn't seem to have expected him to say that to her despite that being what she claimed happened. He didn't know what they had discussed yet, besides it being about the past memories, but he was starting to get the feeling that it was more than that. Maybe something more personal.

Steve observed the pair of them in silence, still wondering what else he should make of this sight before him. Natasha had known Bucky, or had known some part of him, but she never said anything about it. Not when she was helping their search had she said anything about it. Part of him was still angry with her for that, yet as he watched the pair, he felt that anger fall away. Whatever had happened between the two of them, it was enough to leave such a mark that she couldn't talk about it. That she didn't want to talk about it, though he didn't quite understand what could have happened in that time that would have made it so hard to tell.

However, a thought struck Steve. The memory of when he had lost Bucky wasn't one he ever openly talked about, was this similar? It was clear that Bucky cared about her, it was obvious in how his demeanor changed at the sight of her, the way he was watching her, the way he couldn't look away from her. Natasha was harder to read, but her mask had broken when she came into this room, he watched the cold assassin melt away into someone else, someone who couldn't quite believe her eyes.

Bucky spoke again, his voice hoarse and eyes on Steve, "For years, the only constant thing I had besides missions was your voice. Natalia was the first person, the first one to reach me. The real me." Bucky brought his gaze back down to her, gratitude and care across his face. "That night had been the first night I ever talked to someone about, anything. Where I felt, I felt something."

Natasha let a small smirk play on her lips, she gave Steve a sideways glance, "All part of my master plan to get in his head and steal information."

"Sure it was," Bukcy teased, his flesh hand grabbing her own.

Steve watched as Natasha gripped his hand right back, holding it tightly. There was a pain on her face that he recognized almost instantly on her face, it was the same pain he felt when he saw the Winter Soldier, when he saw Bucky for the first time. That he was here, real, next to her. Even more of Steve's anger left him at the sight.

Natasha took in a quick breath, almost like a playful huff, "I can admit he made me feel something new, something that I hadn't ever known."

"We brought out something in each other," Bucky said, Steve saw light in his friend's eyes at that.

"What was that," Steve asked softly, eyes flickering between the two of them.

Natasha turned her head to look at him, her eyes held his own as she said, "Understanding."

Natasha knew what it was like to do horrible things, to feel guilty for them sometimes and not at all on other occasions. Her time in the Red Room wasn't a pleasant one, all she was raised to do was kill people who were too much trouble or had something her handlers wanted. That was her life. Then she found SHIELD, or well SHIELD technically found her, and she met some interesting people.

They offered her a new path one she actually took, but no one, no one understood her. It wasn't their fault that couldn't understand her, but that didn't make it hurt any less despite the effort she went to claim otherwise, that it didn't bother her. She was a Black Widow, nothing could shake her, she had been alone all her life, there was no reason it should be different now. Yet, she found an understanding in the Winter Soldier that night. His hand squeezed her own, bringing her out of her thoughts. It was time to continue the story.

"We may have started with the memories he was seeing, but they were overshadowed by the other side of the conversation. I'm going to spare you the details of what we talked about exactly," Natasha said, the smirk on her face contrasted the heaviness of her tone in a way that made Steve worry. "The conversation focused on some pretty messed up things, we traded some really nasty ghost stories. I'll skip to the after, for the pure ones."

Steve rolled his eyes at her and was prepared to argue that she didn't need to do that, but he didn't. It was clear by the look of relief on Bucky's face that he didn't want Steve to know about the horrors he had committed. While Steve had seen a number of reports of the bad things Bucky had done in his life, there were even more that paper work didn't have a record of. It didn't matter to Steve though, while Bucky did know that to a certain extent, he still didn't want the man to know.

"I can handle whatever it is," Steve told her.

Natasha wore a smile, "You can't know all our dirty little secrets."

Steve let a smile show on his face as well, "I guess you're right. I'll respect that. Please, go on."

Natasha nodded, time to continue the story.

* * *

Natasha didn't make it a habit to talk about her worst crimes, she hadn't even told Clint the worst things she had ever done before. Though she wouldn't say it was because she was afraid of how he respond, or maybe that was the reasons and she was stuck in denial about it. Regardless, she didn't talk about the dark red in her ledger, only the surface level was what he needed to know and what he could understand. The dark, crimson red, so vile it was almost black that she couldn't speak on. Not to him, not to Coulson or May or Fury, none of them could know, none of them could understand such a thing.

Yet when the Winter Soldier told her the grittier things he had done, how his mind seemed to split on the actions he committed, Natasha was able to give him something he'd never had before. Understanding. She understood. Which lead to her telling her own gritty stories that would have left most people frozen and sick, but not him. He gave her the same gift of understanding.

Their conversation started with him explaining the visions he was seeing, but each time he talked of one, the darker parts of him, the life that he was certain was his own, had come through. All the crimes, all the really horrible ones that remained despite the wipes he went through. It would have horrified someone else, but Natasha wasn't. She knew darkness, he knew it as well. Now it was early in the morning, the tea had been finished and the pair of them were just sitting on the couch beside each other, their shoulders touching.

Originally they were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, but at some point they had moved closer. Natasha knew it was when he had started to have a mild break down, which only mildly worried her because last thing she needed was to send him on a war path when she was still injured. As luck would have it, she managed to get him to calm down and they talked about lighter things, pleasant things that held little to no meaning in the grand scheme of their lives, but they were there.

"I've never, never said them out loud before," the soldier said to her after some minutes of silence.

Natasha glanced at him, "It's not something you bring up in casual conversation."

The sides of his mouth twitched, like he might smile at her words, "Yeah… I just, I've never spoken to someone."

"This is the most you've ever talked to someone, isn't it," Natasha asked, though she already knew that answer.

The strain on his voice told her he didn't use it often, at first she figured he probably wasn't a talker and that his missions didn't require it the way her own did, but now she knew it was more than that. He didn't talk to anyone but his handler. Natasha had put together based on the visions or memories that overlapped with his horror stories meant that he was undergoing some kind of continuous procedure. Where his mind was messed with, where something was taken from it or pushed aside, except for these visions and a voice.

Natasha was certain that it was from wherever he had come from before he was a soldier, though he claimed he had no life before being the Winter Soldier. That he was only the Winter Soldier. This lead Natasha to two possibilities, he had been raised to be the Winter Soldier the way she was raised to be a Black Widow or his memories were lost. Since he never referred to when he was younger in the horrors he had committed the way Natasha did, she guessed it was the ladder. When she spoke on some of her horrors, she put an age to it, he didn't.

His visions sounded like they were from the forties or thirties, but he wasn't an old man which lead her to think he might have some kind of serum in him like the one she had in her, or a different version. Either way, there was a lot more to this soldier than she originally believed and she couldn't deny the fact that she wanted to know more.

"Yes," he answered her, he looked at her with pained blue eyes.

Natasha nodded, more in acknowledgement than anything, "Well, guess you'll have to get used to it. At least for the next few days we're stuck here."

The soldier swallowed, "Right."

Natasha may understand him and he understood her, but that didn't change the fact that he was still an enemy. She was trapped here in this cabin without a way to contact her people and there was still a chance he would bring her to his handlers. The idea of having to lose her memories, to go back to who she was only more fractured left her with a pit in her stomach and nausea brushing the back of her throat. There was no way in hell she would let him take her down. However she wondered if she could let him be taken down. Maybe, just maybe, she could offer him a chance the way Clint had offered her one.

The idea had flickered through her mind once before, but after this little talk she had been thinking about it some more and she wanted to bring it up. Yet, part of her worried that was the plan. Maybe he was faking this, maybe his handlers told him to get her, to wear her down so she could take him to whatever base was nearby, steal intel and kill as many agents as possible. Was it likely? She wasn't sure, but she couldn't take that chance yet. No, she needed more information from him about this, she needed to know for sure.

Her training had allowed her the skill on picking up when someone was lying, but she found that she couldn't quite read him. It should have raised an alarm for her, but she was chalking it up to the fact that he didn't know. That much she could tell was true. He honestly had no idea about the feelings tied to the visions, whether or not they were there by his handlers or something from a life before this. Because of his uncertainty, because he genuinely seemed not to know, that was brought out something akin to hope in Natasha.

Maybe there was a chance she would save his life. Though her mission had failed, maybe she could return with something better. The Winter Soldier on SHIELD's side would be a great addition, one not easily passed up. However there were more risks than rewards at the moment when it came to the idea of bringing him like this. She would need to use their time trapped here wisely.

"You should rest," he said, his eyes finding her own.

Natasha raised a brow, "Really?"

He nodded, a bit unsure now, "It's late and you're still injured."

"I suppose now is as good as any to get some sleep," Natasha remarked, her tone a bit dry, "Will you sleep?"

He frowned at her, but said nothing.

Natasha made a tsk sound before saying, "Right, didn't you say you don't sleep? Part vampire I'm guessing. Plus you have to make sure I stay put."

"Yes, I mean, no," the soldier looked at her with pure confusion that made Natasha want to laugh as he went on, "I don't need to sleep a lot. Vampires aren't real. I don't need to make you stay put."

"You sure about all that," Natasha asked as she rose to stand on her feet.

The soldier stared up at her, he blinked in response.

Natasha let out a light chuckle, "You probably need some more rest. Maybe see you in the morning."

"Maybe," he questioned as she started to walk away.

"Yeah, I might die or run off, or maybe you'll disappear," she called over her shoulder and disappeared into her room.

The soldier stared after her, her words echoing in his mind. After a minute of repeating her words, he realized something. Teasing, she had teased him. The word was foreign in his mind, but he knew what it meant, though he had never applied it to someone around him before. Sure in some fights, he was taunted by an opponent, but that was different. That wasn't a fight, she wasn't taunting to get a rise out of him that wouldn't come, she was making odd remarks. He'd never been teased before.

Yet as he sat there, the realization that he had been teased settling into him, he found the corner of his mouth twitching again before her adhered to the feeling. A smile had formed on his face. She had confused him, brought out a smile to him. This agent Romanoff was unlike any agent he had ever had to encounter. Yet he found he didn't mind. Understanding was something she had given him, something he never realized he wanted or needed until she had given it to him.

The word friend was in his vocabulary, but not something he could apply to anyone he knew. Yet as he looked in the spot where she had gone, he wondered if that was something she could be. The thought was quickly struck down though. He was essentially her captor, she was an agent who was trying to ensure she stayed alive by not setting him off. Was any of that real? His handlers would tell him no, that he was letting his guard down for a pair of pretty eyes and fiery locks. However he wasn't angry. Even if it was fake, even if it wasn't real, he'd never felt like this before.

He no longer felt alone.


End file.
